Inked Sapphire (Dear Dahlia Season 3)

2

Gunfire  - that was the only thing Chamen had known for the past two hours. It was relentless. The enemy's bullets pinged off of metal as they hit the railing. One of them hit Chamen's gun, and she froze. Then, she saw a bullet flying towards her and ducked, feeling it whoosh over her head. The soldier kept low as she turned around, pressing her back against the mud of the trench. "Come on," she muttered. She twisted her hand, and the poison filed into the bullet. "Okay," Chamen whispered. "Okay."

The bracelet that Dahlia had given her two weeks ago jingled on her wrist, standing out against the drab olive green of her First Army uniform. Chamen gritted her teeth as she manipulated the powder she'd created, moving her fingers carefully to guide it into her little device and mix it with the poison. The tiny bits of pink powder floated through the air and landed in the gun's barrel, coating it.

"Work for me," Chamen whispered as she aimed at the enemy. "Please."

The sixteen-year-old stared down the barrel. An army general was giving orders. Chamen clenched her jaw, and fired.

Everything slowed down. The bullet sped towards the general, then split in two and released the poisoned powder. The Fjerdans coughed, then started screaming. The Fjerdan army general gasped, let out a scream, then collapsed.

Chamen was about to celebrate when a bullet hit the person beside her.

"Hadiqah!" Chamen cried. Her friend groaned. Blood bloomed over her shirt. She coughed.

"No, no no no no no," Chamen whispered. She pulled her scarf down from around her neck and pressed it to the wound. The sound of bullets being fired endlessly could be heard over the sound of Hadiqah's laboured breathing.

"Go," Hadiqah said weakly.

Tears came to Chamen's eyes. She shook her head. "I'm not leaving you."

On the field, a mine went off. A massive brick flew towards the two soldiers and hit Chamen on her head. She groaned, swayed, then fell, unmoving, on top of Hadiqah's body.

"Chamen," Hadiqah whispered. That was the last word she uttered before her head fell back, hitting the ground, and her eyes glossed over.

_

Dahlia stood in front of Chamen's grave.

"She created something," the first army General had explained when Dahlia had been delivering supplies the day after finding out about her friends' deaths. "We don't know how. But it made the Fjerdans scream. Some sort of bullet-bomb filled with poisoned powder."

No one had been able to create that, not even the bomb makers. Dahlia then knew, deep down, that Chamen had been grisha. The next day, she begged for Chamen to have some sort of gift made to honour her being an alkemi, but all she got was a senior heartrender's unsympathetic reply. He barked a laugh when she'd suggested it.

"If that girl was, she would've been at the Little Palace, wearing that kefta." He pointed to the purple and red coat a Zemeni alkemi was wearing. "But she wasn't. If she isn't with Kirigan, she isn't grisha." He leaned forward. "So instead of worrying about an otkazat'sya playing alkemi, why don't you worry about your family, hmm?"

Dahlia blinked back tears and walked off, whilst the man watched her leave. Behind her, he scoffed, "kids." But something must have happened later that day, because the next time Dahlia saw that heartrender, he couldn't look her in the eye, and even avoided her like a skittish animal when she walked past him.

That didn't matter to her, though. The only thing that mattered was the purple and red artificial flower she'd made, which she laid gingerly on Chamen's grave. Then, after adjusting her hijab, Dahlia cupped her hands together and began to pray.